


ToaTJ Arc 1: Shattered Foundations

by Radishguy



Series: Tales of a Time-Jumper [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: My First AO3 Post, Science Fiction, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22769338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radishguy/pseuds/Radishguy
Summary: What happens when one of the worst time-traveling assassins suddenly becomes wrapped up in a covert war waged between elites for corporate interests? It's something Rickard Jacek would need to think long and hard about to answer, but time isn't a luxury he can afford to lose.This "original" work is heavily inspired by works like Red Line and No More Heroes. Please be patient as updates are incredibly infrequent due to my busy life, and that this is my first creative work.
Series: Tales of a Time-Jumper [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637041





	1. Prologue

Our story begins in 12th century Eastern Europe. Peasants go about their day to day lives of toiling in fields and dying at 30 from an infection. It's a drab, dismal area that makes you realize how lucky you are to not be alive in that time period. Outside a rundown dwelling, a bright light flickers into existence. The few witnesses stop and look on in bewilderment as a woman jumps through it, clad in an armored body suit and backpack. She lands flawlessly, turns towards the portal and aims her gun horizontally, firing shots at it as another figure gracelessly stumbles through, dodging the bullets miraculously as he faceplants into the mud. 

The vixen thinks that she's killed her pursuer and sprints off down the road. This strange newcomer is none other than a young white man with messy white hair with a few black strands poking out, and a faceful of mud. He clambers to his feet, swears, and wipes the mud off his face before giving chase. The man reaches to his hip and unsheathes- "Wait shit!" He says to himself, just realizing that he completely forgot his blade in his home. The woman forms another portal and dives through. At the last minute he tackles her and they both stumble into a new, deafening area.

It's 1930's New York, and in the ninth inning of a baseball game. The crowd and players all stop in shock as these 2 strangers grapple with eachother. She tries to shoot the dirt faced devil but it clicks on empty, so she opts to kick him off her- and it's quite a kick! 

Our mystery man is flung off and hits the man up to bat. As he swears once more and coughs out the sand from the field, he grabs the bat next to the now-unconcious player and staggers up once more, watching as his opponent draws a dagger from her boot. She charges, bellowing a loud cry, dagger thrust forward. The man decides to meet her half way, screaming with his bat ready to swing. 

The last thoughts of these 2 are:

"I'll dispatch this oaf and get this over with!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why didn't I just go to college!" 

As they meet eachother, they both pass one another before stopping a few paces. The man drops his bat in shock from the blood smattered on it and the woman staggers a few steps before spraying blood from her mouth like a Kurosawa film. Unfortunately this blood lands on our victor and he vomits before regaining his composure, picks the bat off the ground, and gingerly removes the bag from the womans corpse before opening a portal and leaving. He stumbles into his sterile workplace, the Foundation. The secretary simply looks him over, shrugs, and goes back to work. "Wow, you look like utter garbage, Ricky. Where's the body? We can't be altering timelines."

'Oh shit, I left the body' he says in his head before clumsily saying "I-I disposed of it..! Uh y'know, a-a trash compactor was nearby! Thats why my suit's bloody!"

"That doesn't explain the vomit on your shirt. Give me the bag and head home, Mr. Goro will hear about your 'excellent' work."  
She simply replied. Our protagonist, who just committed manslaughter and altered a timeline a few moments ago, handed over the bag and walked out before using a tele-taxi to get to his apartment. He was definitely burning these clothes and ordering new ones. He redressed into some jeans and a shirt that said "Oh Yeah!" In blue text before sitting in his chair, and ordered Chinese food. Ricky ate his meal, passed out in his chair, and woke up at 3 PM on a work day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decided to shift the perspective to Ricky's. Tell me what you think of it!

'No, fuck no! I slept in, are you kidding me?! Dammit Ricky, you're 24! I better shower, brush my teeth, and get going!' 

I rush to my wardrobe and slip into some jeans, a graphic t-shirt of some TV show that hasn't been on air for 50 years, and some casual sneakers. I better grab my gear if I'm going to work. Cellphone? Check! Highly unstable sword modified by yours truly? Check! Motorcycle keys? Check! I rush down to the parking lot of my apartment and hop on my bike, there's a full tank of water, I have 2 weeks before I need to refuel. I'm in a hurry, I should take Death Road. The speed limit laws don't apply there anyways. 

The breeze of the ocean hits me like a breath of fresh air and I'm gunnin' it at 180 mega miles per hour. Nothing can stop me, todays gonna be a good day, a great day!-

"Rickard! My office, yesterday!" 

Is what I'm greeted with when I enter The Foundation. 

'Dammit, there goes my good day vibes' 

Mr. Goro is sitting at his desk, his busty assisstant, Darlene is busy rubbing some powder drug in his upper gum line. That blue powder probably costs more than my yearly salary. He dismisses her and she giggles before walking out.

"Rickard... you are by far the WORST GODDAMN EMPLOYEE I HAVE EVER HIRED-"

"Mr. Goro, I'm deeply sorr-"

"SHUT UP, SHUT THE HELL UP RIGHT NOW AND LET ME FINISH!"

The old man begins to cough before putting that blue shit on his gums. Disgusting.

"Rickard, don't answer this question, it's rhetorical. Do you know what it is that we do?" 

As he answers his own question, he faces the window in his swivel chair. God, I could kick him through that window right now if I felt like it. 

"We kill people. Good or bad, we kill them because the higher ups in The Foundation say so. We are expected to be orderly and efficient when doing our job. Do you know what you did? You executed a target in the same manner as a street thug." He glances back at me, and notices I'm not wearing a suit. This sets the old man off and he stands up. 

"A STREET THUG RICKARD, A STREET THUG. YOU DIDN'T EVEN DISPOSE OF A BODY FROM THE 22ND CENTURY, WE HAD TO SEND A CLEANUP CREW TO DO IT. COULD YOU IMAGINE WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF 1930'S AUTHORITIES GOT THAT BODY?! YOU'RE LUCKY THEY DON'T HAVE A WAY TO FIND OUT WHO YOU ARE BECAUSE YOU LEFT VOMIT THERE AS WELL! TO RUB SALT IN OUR WOUNDS, YOU SHOW UP IN STREET CLOTHES ON A WORKDAY! DON'T COME BACK TO WORK UNTIL WE TELL YOU TO."

The coughing begins again, and he slouches back into his chair, grabbing a heap of blue powder and shoving it into his mouth and waving his other hand for me to leave. Right as I turn around, he verbally kicks me while I'm down. "Your sword, it's company property. Give it to security on your way out."

Well, I may or may not be fired, I have some cash from my hit job, and I have time to kill. I should probably catch up on some anime, yeah, that's what I'll do. 

It's been 3 days, I've watched every show on my list, I'm bored of porn, and I haven't received any call at all- speak of the devil! Someone's calling me! 

"Mr. Rickard I assume?"  
"That's correct! May I ask who's talking?"  
"Born in New Santa Fe, United States on February fifth, 2147?" Wow, this guy brushed off my question, the jerk.   
"Yes, but who am I speaking to?"  
"I'll cut to the chase, Mr. Rickard. About 4 days ago, you retrieved a package during a time job. That package contains... sensitive material that would be of great use to my business partners and you."  
"Let me guess, this is some kind of test of loyalty to see if I'm gonna be fired or not. Well you can tell Mr. Goro that he can go and-"  
"No, Mr. Rickard. In fact, my partners work for The Foundation. We believe that Sanjuro Goro plans to use that package to become the chairman of The Foundation. You see, unbeknownst to you, the previous chairman, Mr. Smith died 2 weeks ago. Now, we've kept this news under wraps because Mr. Smith has no named successor, and if this news reached everyone it would ensure a power vaccuum. Mr. Goro already knows about this however, and as such, he plans to use the package you acquired to take hold of the company. If you can... eliminate him, then my co-conspirators will make sure that you have a job still, and a better one at that. Don't bother answering, we already know what you're going to say. Right now, Mr. Goro has dispatched a time jump assassin to kill you in the past, 2 days ago to be exact. You're a liability, Mr. Rickard. You'll find a time jumper belt in your dresser. As for weapons, well... improvise."

With that, my phone hung up and I decided that checking my drawer was next on my list of priorities. This could either be a bomb planted into my dresser, or the real deal. Gently, slowly, I pull the handle on my drawer towards me and much to my relief, I am not splattered across the room by a bomb. In fact, it is a time jumper belt, and an odd one at that. The small metal device acts as belt buckle, and there are 2 empty holsters, one for each side of the hip. Who do I look like to them? Buffalo Bill? Get real. Reluctantly, I slap this fashion disaster of a belt on and look around my room for anything, and I mean anything to beat this hypothetical hitman's ass. Old comic books and porno mags? Nope. A model kit of a robot? Nah. The baseball bat I used to kill a woman a few days ago? Fine, sure let's do it. 

Pre-determined coordinates are set in on the belt, how sweet of them. The all too familiar beep and click of the jumper activating fills my ears, my vision goes white, and what do you know, I'm on top of a mag-train! Now that I think about it, I did go use the mag-train two days ago to get dinner, so this very well could be the exact same train. It's not moving, in fact it's docked to the platform. Out of the corner of my eye I see the maintenance hatch open up, and a man climb out onto the top. He doesn't see me oddly enough, and walks in the other direction with a black cane clattering against the surface of the trains roof. 

"Hey man, are you lost or something?"  
The dude's probably blind.

"That voice... Ricky, isn't it? You're just the man I'm looking for." 

He says with a raspy, thin voice. Shiiiit, I think this is the guy trying to kill me. 

"It's funny how things work out... I thought I was going to sneak along the roofs of the cars, hear your music through the walls, and stab you... like shooting fish in a barrel. Instead, you were waiting for me." He continues on once more. "Oh, yes Ricky, I can hear the music you listen to even in your headphones, even through thick metal walls like these. Interesting how that works, isn't it? They say that when one sense goes, all the others remain the same, and that anyone who says otherwise reads too many comics. They clearly haven't met me..."

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, that's the prologue. If there's any errors I missed, please don't be afraid to tell me.


End file.
